Heavy silence

The heavy silence of poppies,

like Autumn leaves,

litters our lives.

We, who are ‘young’,

have tears for our world

embattled by the unknowing

wisdom of ignorance.

The bugle call of remembrance

pierces hushed reverence

while the noisy commotion of reality

injures our dreams.

No treaty was signed today,

no peace broke out,

the shackles of conflict maim and kill,

no children of war sleep safe.

Conflict and argument abide with me,

deaths sting endures the ages,

morning’s sunrise will be red as ever

as we, the undead, mourn.